But she got it in reality.
Shyamala looked out when she heard the click of the gate. She had been dusting the furniture. Once Varun went to office, she had nothing much to do. They had a fulltime maid, who did the washing and cooking as well.
“I think we can cut down expenses, and keep the maid for just washing and cleaning. That way we need to keep her only for a few hours. I can very well do the cooking myself. You know I love to cook.”
Varun would smile, “No dear, this is the time for you to take it easy. You did work to the bones in the initial stages, when we couldn't afford a help and I am grateful that you did it all, with never a word of complaint. You did not even have time to pursue your hobbies like reading and writing. Now is the time to pick up the threads. Thank goodness I’m doing well and we don't have to pinch and stint and count the pennies. So the maid stays.” She would laugh up at him. “Ah...those days when we had to squeeze the toothpaste tube to eke out the last bit and wait for the junk man to sell off the papers and books and bottles. But they were happy times, wasn’t it?” Varun would nod in agreement. “Whoever said that when poverty comes through the window, love flies out through the door, should have seen us then. Thank you, dear, thank you for everything.”
And Shyamala knew what he meant by everything. For forgiving him that one lapse.
Now she looked out and was surprised to see Deepika, their only child, at the gate. Deepika was a pretty 23-year-old girl, married to a nice boy for the last two years. Both Akash and Deepika lived in the city.
Deepika was tugging a suitcase and in a minute was at the door. Shyamala had already opened the door.
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